There have been very few things I've felt actually confident about doing well throughout my life, but one of those few things is art- namely, ceramics. Since I started working with clay in elementary school I have felt very good about it and have always excelled.
My best friend, Natalie, used to be very involved in a local art studio called Escape to the Arts. One summer in maybe fifth or sixth grade, she asked me to join a pottery class with her and I figured it would just be a fun thing to do and joke around in. I ended up falling in love with clay and being able to manipulate something however I wanted to and create something new that didn't exist before. After this short summer class that I got a few small plates and bowls out of, I honestly forgot about ceramics until my sophomore year of high school. I always drew and painted on my own, so I was still involved in art, but I think because classes working with clay weren't offered in my elementary and middle schools, I looked at my class at Escape to the Arts to be a sort of temporary and short-lived hobby.
My friend had taken a ceramics class with a supposedly crazy old teacher, and told me it was incredibly fun and that I should take it. So I signed up, remembering how much fun it had been years ago. As soon as the class started I was reminded how much I loved it.
This supposedly "crazy" teacher was actually an extremely talented, passionate, and eccentric woman who had been working with clay for 60 out of her 63 years. The only times she ever became crazy or angry were when people took her class and assistance for granted and weren't serious about it. And if I had been doing something I loved for my entire life, I'd be pretty upset if someone were to waste my time as well. Her name is Mrs. Allen, and before she grew to become one of my best friends by my senior year, she was the most helpful instructor I've ever had.She taught me how to hand build with clay- something I hadn't yet learned since I had only ever worked on the wheel. Mrs. Allen was surprised to see how quickly I picked up the skills, and so was I.
The best times I had with Mrs. Allen were helping her load and unload our kiln in class. Watching how careful she was with everyone's pieces, no matter how good or bad they were and no matter how much she liked or disliked the student who made them. It proved me to the level of respect Mrs. Allen had for everyone around her and especially for her art form. Additionally, considering the kiln took up the majority of a tiny closet, we spent a lot of time in very close quarters and really got to know each other. I was also pretty honored that she chose me out of my class of about 30 to help her with such a delicate and important task. It sparked our friendship that continues today. She taught me how to hand build with clay- something I hadn't yet learned since I had only ever worked on the wheel. Mrs. Allen was surprised to see how quickly I picked up the skills, and so was I.
The greatest part about art and clay specifically is that there's no such thing as a permanent mistake. Every faulty stroke of a tool or twist of the hand can be easily fixed or even turned into something new. I've been able to start off with a mug I hated and manipulate it into a beautiful honey pot and vase on several occasions. It's the most comforting and stress relieving activity I've ever done, simply because there is no wrong answer and no ugly result. Someone will like anything you make in ceramics because everyone has a different aesthetic. I think the reason I became so good at ceramic building so quickly is because I care about it so much. Many people around me in my Ceramics 1 class had just signed up for it to get rid of their art requirement (a tactic that frustrates me beyond belief). So of course someone is going to be frustrated when their task at hand is difficult and they don't actually care about it but are forced to put in the work. I excelled because I was absolutely in love with the clay, my tools, our strange but fun breathing and relaxation exercises before we worked, and being able to work with my hands in the middle of an otherwise reading and listening based school day.
My favorite piece I've ever made is a little mug that fits perfectly in my unusually small hands. Tea is my favorite drink and I have a habit of collecting many more mugs than I need (I brought six to college because I couldn't leave my favorites behind). Anyway, it was the first mug I've ever made, and in the beginning of making it, I hated it. It was a little crooked and I thought it was too short and I didn't like my handle because it was too wide. But I had yet to ever give up on a piece of mine and didn't want to start. So I spent about three weeks trying to "fix" the mug and make it perfect before I realized that maybe it didn't need to be fixed. Mrs. Allen's entire personal aesthetic was based off of asymmetry and the beauty in earthly imperfections, and while mine had always been about perfect lines and curves and colors, perhaps I had something to learn from her "go with the flow" attitude toward art. This was difficult for me because I have never been a "go with the flow" person in any aspect. I've always needed concrete things with concrete meanings and I've always needed to have concrete feelings about everything. But this little chubby mug helped me realize that sometimes it's okay to love something imperfect and give it the same attention that I would something that fits my standards of beauty and acceptance. So instead of trying to straighten the sides of my mug and make it perfect, I started to carve a design into it. I ended up turning it into a bit of a honey pot/tree mug. The outside of it has the lines and curves of tree bark and is a dark brown, and the inside is a worn-looking golden yellow. The yellow "honey" looks as if it is overflowing from the inside of the mug and dripping down the tree bark and the handle. I think it's the cutest thing I've ever seen and it ended up being the mug that everyone in my class loved the most. My friend Julia who was in my class said to me "you always hate your work and then it comes out perfectly." This was a huge lesson for me. I learned that eventually, I'll make everything work out because I have the dedication and skills to do so. I just need to have people, or artistic media, around me that will be flexible and bendable enough to work with me.
I went on to take advanced ceramics my senior year and to YPP for Mrs. Allen (a YPP is a teacher's assistant) and help her make clay during the periods of the day in which she didn't have a class. I even went to her house one day after school to help her garden and to see her home clay studio. I think the bond I had with this woman really enhanced my relationship with ceramics and my artistic side in general. My advanced ceramics class was absolutely incredible. I was one of only eight students to take the class, and we were allowed to make basically whatever we wanted as long as we used the skills we were taught that week by Mrs. Allen. Everyone in the class took ceramics just as seriously as I did, and I actually had competition in being the best in the class.
The best feeling I have ever experienced is bringing home a mug I have made in ceramics and being able to use it for tea and hot chocolate. The feeling of something I made being incorporated into my day and fitting perfectly in my own hands is inexplicably satisfying and comforting to me.
I have recently signed up for a pottery class that starts this Wednesday at the South County Art Association, because I can't go any longer without working with clay or I may lose my mind. It's my only outlet for stress since I had to stop running my junior year, and I can't wait to start it again. If I could, I would honestly make a career out of ceramics, but the clay and studio and kiln are far too expensive to afford on my own. Instead, I plan on making this a life-long hobby of mine and at least ending up with a small studio in my house. I want to share ceramics with everyone around me because it is an art form that anyone can love and do well in. I hope that the more formal setting of the Art Association will strengthen my skills and help make my plans about pursuing clay work in the future more concrete.
My best friend, Natalie, used to be very involved in a local art studio called Escape to the Arts. One summer in maybe fifth or sixth grade, she asked me to join a pottery class with her and I figured it would just be a fun thing to do and joke around in. I ended up falling in love with clay and being able to manipulate something however I wanted to and create something new that didn't exist before. After this short summer class that I got a few small plates and bowls out of, I honestly forgot about ceramics until my sophomore year of high school. I always drew and painted on my own, so I was still involved in art, but I think because classes working with clay weren't offered in my elementary and middle schools, I looked at my class at Escape to the Arts to be a sort of temporary and short-lived hobby.
My friend had taken a ceramics class with a supposedly crazy old teacher, and told me it was incredibly fun and that I should take it. So I signed up, remembering how much fun it had been years ago. As soon as the class started I was reminded how much I loved it.
This supposedly "crazy" teacher was actually an extremely talented, passionate, and eccentric woman who had been working with clay for 60 out of her 63 years. The only times she ever became crazy or angry were when people took her class and assistance for granted and weren't serious about it. And if I had been doing something I loved for my entire life, I'd be pretty upset if someone were to waste my time as well. Her name is Mrs. Allen, and before she grew to become one of my best friends by my senior year, she was the most helpful instructor I've ever had.She taught me how to hand build with clay- something I hadn't yet learned since I had only ever worked on the wheel. Mrs. Allen was surprised to see how quickly I picked up the skills, and so was I.
The best times I had with Mrs. Allen were helping her load and unload our kiln in class. Watching how careful she was with everyone's pieces, no matter how good or bad they were and no matter how much she liked or disliked the student who made them. It proved me to the level of respect Mrs. Allen had for everyone around her and especially for her art form. Additionally, considering the kiln took up the majority of a tiny closet, we spent a lot of time in very close quarters and really got to know each other. I was also pretty honored that she chose me out of my class of about 30 to help her with such a delicate and important task. It sparked our friendship that continues today. She taught me how to hand build with clay- something I hadn't yet learned since I had only ever worked on the wheel. Mrs. Allen was surprised to see how quickly I picked up the skills, and so was I.
The greatest part about art and clay specifically is that there's no such thing as a permanent mistake. Every faulty stroke of a tool or twist of the hand can be easily fixed or even turned into something new. I've been able to start off with a mug I hated and manipulate it into a beautiful honey pot and vase on several occasions. It's the most comforting and stress relieving activity I've ever done, simply because there is no wrong answer and no ugly result. Someone will like anything you make in ceramics because everyone has a different aesthetic. I think the reason I became so good at ceramic building so quickly is because I care about it so much. Many people around me in my Ceramics 1 class had just signed up for it to get rid of their art requirement (a tactic that frustrates me beyond belief). So of course someone is going to be frustrated when their task at hand is difficult and they don't actually care about it but are forced to put in the work. I excelled because I was absolutely in love with the clay, my tools, our strange but fun breathing and relaxation exercises before we worked, and being able to work with my hands in the middle of an otherwise reading and listening based school day.
My favorite piece I've ever made is a little mug that fits perfectly in my unusually small hands. Tea is my favorite drink and I have a habit of collecting many more mugs than I need (I brought six to college because I couldn't leave my favorites behind). Anyway, it was the first mug I've ever made, and in the beginning of making it, I hated it. It was a little crooked and I thought it was too short and I didn't like my handle because it was too wide. But I had yet to ever give up on a piece of mine and didn't want to start. So I spent about three weeks trying to "fix" the mug and make it perfect before I realized that maybe it didn't need to be fixed. Mrs. Allen's entire personal aesthetic was based off of asymmetry and the beauty in earthly imperfections, and while mine had always been about perfect lines and curves and colors, perhaps I had something to learn from her "go with the flow" attitude toward art. This was difficult for me because I have never been a "go with the flow" person in any aspect. I've always needed concrete things with concrete meanings and I've always needed to have concrete feelings about everything. But this little chubby mug helped me realize that sometimes it's okay to love something imperfect and give it the same attention that I would something that fits my standards of beauty and acceptance. So instead of trying to straighten the sides of my mug and make it perfect, I started to carve a design into it. I ended up turning it into a bit of a honey pot/tree mug. The outside of it has the lines and curves of tree bark and is a dark brown, and the inside is a worn-looking golden yellow. The yellow "honey" looks as if it is overflowing from the inside of the mug and dripping down the tree bark and the handle. I think it's the cutest thing I've ever seen and it ended up being the mug that everyone in my class loved the most. My friend Julia who was in my class said to me "you always hate your work and then it comes out perfectly." This was a huge lesson for me. I learned that eventually, I'll make everything work out because I have the dedication and skills to do so. I just need to have people, or artistic media, around me that will be flexible and bendable enough to work with me.
I went on to take advanced ceramics my senior year and to YPP for Mrs. Allen (a YPP is a teacher's assistant) and help her make clay during the periods of the day in which she didn't have a class. I even went to her house one day after school to help her garden and to see her home clay studio. I think the bond I had with this woman really enhanced my relationship with ceramics and my artistic side in general. My advanced ceramics class was absolutely incredible. I was one of only eight students to take the class, and we were allowed to make basically whatever we wanted as long as we used the skills we were taught that week by Mrs. Allen. Everyone in the class took ceramics just as seriously as I did, and I actually had competition in being the best in the class.
The best feeling I have ever experienced is bringing home a mug I have made in ceramics and being able to use it for tea and hot chocolate. The feeling of something I made being incorporated into my day and fitting perfectly in my own hands is inexplicably satisfying and comforting to me.
I have recently signed up for a pottery class that starts this Wednesday at the South County Art Association, because I can't go any longer without working with clay or I may lose my mind. It's my only outlet for stress since I had to stop running my junior year, and I can't wait to start it again. If I could, I would honestly make a career out of ceramics, but the clay and studio and kiln are far too expensive to afford on my own. Instead, I plan on making this a life-long hobby of mine and at least ending up with a small studio in my house. I want to share ceramics with everyone around me because it is an art form that anyone can love and do well in. I hope that the more formal setting of the Art Association will strengthen my skills and help make my plans about pursuing clay work in the future more concrete.